


Lost

by allierrachelle



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Auguste Lives, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 00:34:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7736104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allierrachelle/pseuds/allierrachelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Laurent acts like the snarky little brother he is, and Damen gets lost while at Arles for a banquet, consequentially finding himself at the door of Laurent’s chamber.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost

**Author's Note:**

> I finally made my way to Ao3! 
> 
> I can't promise to be around all that often but I did promise on tumblr that I'd get this up.
> 
> Enjoy!

“I am not needed there and you know that just as well as I do.”

Auguste stood over the couch where his little brother lay, crossing his arms against his chest. He looked strikingly like their mother when he was feeling cross. He stared at Laurent with the same expression of disapproval as a parent would have with a child who was being unruly.

“Laurent, these banquets are an opportunity to build connections, not just as a Prince, but as a representative of Vere. It isn’t a matter of being needed there; you will be expected there.”

Laurent stretched languidly to rest his hand above his head, trying to keep himself from rolling his eyes. He was always ‘expected’ at such events but when he inevitably didn’t arrive from time to time, no one thought much of it – except his brother. Even their father took no mind to his absence, so long as Auguste was present.

“You will be there, as will father. That makes for more than enough representatives of Vere, wouldn’t you think?” Laurent deliberately mimicked the language his brother used. “Besides, the blame does not fall on me if courtiers expect something out of a boy they have not met.”

“A man they have not met – a Prince they have not met,” Auguste said sharply. “They expect you to live up to your title. Shirking off these meetings was excusable when you were younger, but you are on the cusp of adulthood; you cannot put off your responsibilities forever.”

“Being served at a table of haughty dignitaries is a responsibility?”

“Yes,” Auguste sighed and for a moment said nothing more. “Laurent, you are expected to be prepared for the throne, just as I am. What if something were to happen to me?”

Laurent took a deep breath, and was silent for a moment in turn, contemplating the interchangeability of one blonde prince for another. “Then I suppose I would have to start attending banquets.” Auguste pursed his lips as Laurent quirked his, flipping open a book that had been resting on his chest since Auguste walked in, keeping his eyes fixated on it as he spoke to his brother. “It would be unfortunate for us both. Let us hope that nothing happens.”

With that, Auguste let his arms drop to his sides, shaking his head. “Very well. I am not going to force you, but I would ask you to consider what your country –”

“– expects of me. I know.” Laurent did not move his eyes away from his book. “On your way out, please tell my guards to keep any other visitors away for the rest of the night.”

Auguste deliberately did not reply to that, instead saying, “I’m sure father will forgive you if you come in late,” and with that, he was out of the room, leaving behind the thud of a heavy brass door as it settled back into its frame.

Laurent let himself relax as he did not while being chided at, and resumed reading. He had been attending lessons all day as the feast was prepared and now welcomed the chance to be alone, where he could let himself fall into the delusion that nothing was expected of him at all. Auguste did not understand the need for such time, but Laurent couldn’t blame him for that. If Auguste had ever felt such a need, it had been trained out of him long ago. A King did not frequently have time to forget that he was King.

He had let himself slip back into a daze in his reading, entirely absolved, when he was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.

Laurent’s brows creased but he didn’t stand. Whatever it was could wait. His guards were not incompetent – they could handle a visitor on their own.

Only a few moments later, the knock came again, with slightly more force. Laurent snapped his book shut with a quick huff and stood. Half of the palace was in the great hall for dinner; there was no reason for anyone to be appearing at his doorstep, especially if his guards were doing their job well.

To his surprise, and irritation, his guards were not outside his door at all; instead stood just one unfamiliar, broad-shouldered young man who couldn’t be much older than himself. The man looked confused for a moment, and then shocked as he realized who had opened the door.

“Where are my guards?” Laurent asked, craning his neck down the expanse of the hall and seeing no one but the man in front of him. The man mirrored Laurent’s quick search for his missing guard, and then turned back to Laurent, unbothered that he just stumbled upon an unprotected prince.

“Prince Laurent,” the man stated simply, an observation more than a greeting. He did not address him with any formalities. “I seem to be lost,” he stated in simple Veretian, unaware of the taboo nature of knocking on a Prince’s door unannounced.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Laurent started hesitantly, “but I can assure you that whatever you’re looking for is not in my chamber.” Laurent began to close the door on the visitor, but was stopped abruptly by a hand wrapping around the edge of the brass. If his guards were here, Laurent would have him dragged out of the palace for such an action.

“I’m only looking for someone to point me in the right direction of tonight’s banquet. I saw the light from your door and I just…I would assume you would know where I’m supposed to be.”

Laurent stared at the hand that still held the door in place. “The Great Hall.”

To his surprise, the stranger laughed at that, a soft and warm chuckle. “Well I know that.”

Laurent was silent for a few beats too many before the man broke the silence, realizing that Laurent wasn’t going to respond. “I’m Damianos,” he said, slowly, as though he thought Laurent struggling to understand him. He removed his hand as he noticed Laurent’s gaze on it. 

Laurent’s eyebrow rose, now looking up to meet the gaze of the man at his door. “The Akielon Prince?”

Damianos grinned and his eyes lit up with an unusual enthusiasm. “You know me.”

“I know of you.”

Aside from the laurel that sat on top of his dark curls, there was nothing that gave his position away. He seemed strong and personable, but he was also lost in a palace that was not his own, chatting away carelessly with another country’s youngest Prince, and all the while becoming increasingly late to a formal banquet.

“Well now,” Damianos motioned between the two of them, “you know me.”

A smile lingered on Damianos’ face as he looked Laurent over, slowly and deliberately. A faint rush of blood flooded Laurent’s cheeks – due to irritation more than anything else, surely. He felt half the urge to slam the door on Damianos’ face and stop his inspection dead in its track, but instead he stood still and stared right back.

“Did I overdress for this dinner? I wasn’t aware I could go wearing undergarments,” Daminaos asked, gesturing to the thin white shirt that hung loose on Laurent’s frame.

Laurent looked over the short piece of white fabric that fell over Damianos’ body and thought that no, he most certainly did not overdress, and he probably did not have undergarments. The little bit of clothing that he wore seemed minuscule in comparison to the broad build of his body, and it actually made him look rather under-dressed. Laurent had a hard time seeing this man as royalty.

“No,” Laurent replied honestly, pulling his eyes back up to Damianos’ face again. “I am not going.”

“Really?” Damianos asked, quirking his eyebrow. “May I ask why not?”

Laurent simply echoed what he had told Auguste. “These events are handled by my brother and I don’t enjoy them anyway.”

“I see.” Damianos nodded, and to Laurent’s bewilderment, stepped fractionally closer to lean against the door frame, making himself comfortable on the threshold of Laurent’s chamber. “So you are staying in here to…daydream? Pass the time?”

“What I do in my own bedroom is no concern of yours,” Laurent snapped. The color on his face deepened as he grew increasingly frustrated that this man – Prince, or whatever – had such gall so as to overstay his welcome outside of someone else’s bedroom.

Damianos’ face fell for the first time since he knocked on Laurent’s door and he removed his weight from the door frame. “My apologies, I didn’t mean any offense. I was just curious as to what was keeping you. Auguste told me months ago when he was visiting Akielos that I would have the opportunity to meet you at tonight’s banquet and I –”

“He what?” Laurent cut off.

Damianos was taken aback, his mouth falling open the slightest bit. “Should he not have? I was looking forward to it.”

Laurent felt an odd furl in his stomach as he met the dark brown gaze of Damianos, of all people.

He had no qualms with Akielon royalty, aside from now discovering that one of them took immense liberties with other people’s personal space, but finding himself alone, without guard, and face-to-face with the Akielon Prince was not something that Laurent had anticipated and he could not say that he knew the protocol for such a situation. He was silent for a moment, weighing his options. He could kick the man out and leave him to wander aimlessly around the halls of his own palace, which was unsettling. He could give him directions and let him probably get lost once more, which was only slightly less unsettling. If his guard were here, he would have him escorted, but they were off doing something apparently so important that they abandoned their post, leaving Laurent unguarded, and leaving Damianos with no other option for an escort, aside from….

Damianos’ face looked fallen and fiercely apologetic.

“If you must know,” Laurent started slowly, “I was reading before you showed up and interrupted me, Damianos.” He stepped back slightly into his room to put some distance between the two of them.

“You can call me Damen,” he said flippantly. “And won’t someone come looking for you when you don’t arrive tonight?”

Laurent wasn’t entirely sure what had passed between them that Damen felt comfortable exchanging nicknames. “I should hope not, Damen,” Laurent said, putting a slight emphasis on the newly disclosed name. “They’ve grown used to it by now. Besides, I told my guard not to let anyone disturb me.”

Damen laughed at that, a full and warm sound, and gestured at the opened door. Laurent rolled his eyes but smirked fractionally despite himself. Telling an intruder that he was not supposed to intrude had an irony to it.

“Shouldn’t someone come looking for you?” Laurent demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

“They already could be,” Damen said with a shrug. “Perhaps they got lost on the way. It’s not hard in these lurid halls.” Any disappointment that had come over Damen was gone now. He was back to speaking in a way that was a bit too sure of himself considering he was, after all, lost in the palace he just referred to as lurid. He stared at Laurent with eyes that were full of a playful smile.

Laurent could not find it in himself to kick him out. Besides, he was not going to be able to focus on his book again after such an odd occurrence – and without the comfortable security of a guard.

“Because I am forgiving, I will walk you to the hall myself and then I will return back here, where I expect to remain undisturbed. Tell Auguste I am sorry that you and I could not meet in the way he anticipated, and then tell him that to avoid disappointment in the future, he ought not to meddle in the social practices of other people,” Laurent said.

Damen’s eyebrows were raised and he seemed to be fighting back a chuckle as he said, “I will let him know.”

“Good.”

“Good,” Damen echoed.

Laurent shuffled on his feet slightly, staring at the man who took up a considerable amount of space in his door frame. “Come inside. I am not going to leave my chamber half-dressed.”

Damen took a few steps into the room before making himself comfortable on Laurent’s couch. From what little Laurent knew about him, this seemed fairly characteristic.

“I am going to go change. Stay there,” Laurent ordered before slipping through an arch behind him that led into his bedchamber. Changing only entailed of throwing a jacket and some boots on, both of which were lying on the foot of his bed. He laced up his boots quickly, but in hardly any time at all, he heard a voice from the other side of the wall.

“You’ve been reading poetry?”

Laurent stopped in his movement with only one sleeve of his jacket on. He peered around the corner to see Damen flipping through the small book that he had left sitting on the couch.

“Do you often help yourself to others’ belongings?” he couldn’t help but ask before ducking back around to finish shrugging into his jacket. “And yes, I enjoy it. If you are going to criticize my taste in literature, I will throw you out.”

“No, I wasn’t –” Damen started but stopped as Laurent came back out, his jacket still unlaced. “I enjoy poetry; I just can’t imagine skipping a party to read it.”

“It’s not a party and I suppose that is where we differ,” Laurent said indifferently, fiddling with the laces from his jacket. His eyebrows creased as he tried to loosen a knot that had formed in the ties at the bottom of his jacket.

“Would you like some help?” Damen asked, noticing Laurent struggle to untangle the knot.

“Do you have experience lacing Veretian clothing?” Laurent asked sarcastically as he kept his fingers and his gaze focused on the laces.

“No, but I have experience with knots – in ropes and such.”

“These are not ropes.”

A few moments later, with Laurent making no progress, Damen asked again, “Are you sure you don’t want some help?”

Laurent sighed and pulled his fingers out of the material. He said nothing but looked at Damen and shrugged, which was taken as a sign – Laurent wasn’t sure if he wanted it to be. Regardless, Damen stepped forward directly into Laurent’s personal space and took a hold of his laces. To his discomfort, Laurent found he had to crane his neck up just to look at him, so he decided to stare at Damen’s working hands instead. They were larger than his own and lacked the advantage of agility that came with thinner fingers, but they were careful and sure. They moved surprisingly tenderly.

“What did you do to these?” Damen chuckled as he tugged a bit on the laces. Laurent looked up to meet Damen’s gaze and felt a slight warmth engulf his face and neck. Damen was about a head taller than him and what felt like twice as wide, and Laurent had invited him into his chambers. His eyes were kind, though, and didn’t seem to be much of a threat. Even after all of Laurent’s sharp remarks, he wouldn’t wipe the smile off of his face. Laurent’s chest felt tight in a way he didn’t like and couldn’t justify, so he didn’t try.

In a frustratingly small amount of time, the laces were loose and Damen stepped back and looked Laurent over, as if admiring his handiwork.

“Thank you,” Laurent said with a twinge of a polite smile, feeling a bit spun. Damen smiled back, which Laurent deliberately looked away from.

“Why don’t you like these events?” Damen asked as Laurent determinedly returned to lacing his jacket up.

“Have you ever been to one?” Laurent shot back in return.

“Have you?”

“Yes. They’re dry and crowded. I don’t go because all they are is an opportunity for people to dote on my brother and kiss up to my father; my presence is entirely inconsequential. I am only expected to go because I am a backup contender for a throne that belongs to my brother.” His honesty surprised even him, and he flushed a bit in the silence that followed. He wasn’t jealous of his brother’s position by any means, but he did not delight in the chance to be surrounded by a room full of people that either dismissed him, or talked with him about nothing but Auguste.

“Oh,” was all Damen said for a while, and all that Laurent thought that he would say before he continued, “For the record, I think your presence would be very consequential. And you would make just as good of a king as your brother.”

Laurent scoffed. He didn’t hear that often. “You hardly know me.”

“Auguste has told me a lot about you,” Damen said quietly and unthinkingly, suddenly overwhelmed with a bashful air to him that Laurent had not seen yet, as though he was confessing something that he shouldn’t. Laurent stared at him silently, his mouth slightly open. Damen seemed to realize the odd nature of what he had just said, and quickly scrambled to find words. “Not to say that we…talk about you, I just – he brought you up and I – I asked what you were like and I just…I just mean that you seem intelligent. I don’t know anyone else who would skip a party to stay in their room and read. And…you seem very….” He seemed to be struggling with words. “Articulate and authoritative, and –”

“Authoritative?” Laurent asked with a chuckle, his eyebrows cocked. The Akielon Prince had asked Auguste about him before they even met. He stifled back another laugh and an odd surge of flattery.

“I meant…” Damen took a deep breath, trying to recenter his thoughts. “You should come, that’s all,” Damen said, sighing and stepping back to sit on the couch. Laurent followed, much to his own surprise, sitting closer than would be acceptable outside of his own bedroom. “I don’t particularly want to attend alone, considering how boring this is apparently going to be,” he said with a pointed smirk.

“That’s not a very intriguing invitation,” Laurent replied, his eyes locked onto the way Damen’s eyes wrinkled a bit when he smiled.

Damen was silent for a beat before quietly saying, “I think the intriguing part is that they’re easy to slip away from.”

Laurent felt as though his breath was being coaxed out of him. He wasn’t sure when his night turned into something that felt an awful lot like flirting with the Akielon Prince, but for all his confusion, it didn’t bother him as much as it probably should have. He felt his gaze drop on its own accord to Damen’s lips as they slowly relaxed out of a smile. They were full and –

“I know you didn’t plan to leave your room,” a voice said from the doorway, “but have you heard word from –“

Laurent turned away from Damen quickly, to look towards the door where his brother was standing with his words in his throat. Laurent felt a quick rush of annoyance that a task as simple as guarding a door was apparently lost on the palace staff.

“Where are my guards?!”

Auguste glanced quickly between his brother and the prince of Akielos, who were seated slightly too close to each other. To Auguste’s delight, however, Laurent was wearing more clothes than he had been prior to Damen’s arrival.

“Auguste!” Damen seemed to be unaffected by the sudden interruption and greeted the older brother with a carefree grin. “It’s a pleasure to see you as always.”

“Likewise,” Auguste replied after a long moment. “I have been looking for you actually; I was looking forward to talking with you tonight. Though I cannot say I expected to find you in my little brother’s bedchamber.”

“I was lost,” Damen said honestly, missing the discomfort in Auguste’s voice that Laurent picked up on with ease.

“Well, you are late for the banquet. Kastor is in the dining hall telling everyone you’re being irresponsible and I would hate to see you prove him right.”

“Fair enough. Let us not keep anyone waiting. Or legitimize any of my brother’s words,” Damen said with a chuckle, standing and then turning to extend his hand to Laurent to help him up off the couch as well. Auguste eyed both of them as Laurent took it. With his attention still on Laurent, Damen asked, “You are going to come, right?”

Laurent took a quick glance at his brother who was paler than he usually was, and smiled. “Yes, I am.”

Damen beamed.

“Damianos,” Auguste started, his voice strained. “I need to speak to my brother for a moment before we head to the hall.”

“Of course,” Damen granted, still grinning, and stepped outside of the room, keeping his eyes on Laurent until the door was closed. Laurent prepared himself for whatever earful was to come.

“What was the Prince of Akielos doing in your room?” Auguste demanded as soon as Damen was outside of earshot.

“He was lost,” Laurent said simply with a shrug.

“So you invited a stranger in, to what? Discuss politics? Trade negotiations? All the topics you kept him from while he should have been in the hall?”

“I can assure you,” Laurent started with an intentionally coy smile, “we didn’t discuss politics.”

Auguste flushed a bright red color. “Then why –” 

“Earlier, did you dismiss my guard on the way out?” Auguste said nothing in return so Laurent pushed forward, cocking his head to the side. “In hopes someone would berate me into attending?”

“I would never disrespect your wishes like –”

“Does it bother you for some reason that Damen was the person to do that?”

Auguste’s eyebrows shot up. “Damen? You’re on a nickname basis with the Prince of Akielos now?”

“Do you oppose?” Laurent said with faux confusion. “He told me that you were anticipating our acquaintance. You assured him that we would meet tonight. I wouldn’t want you to fall untrue to your word.”

Auguste opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out. Laurent couldn’t hold back a satisfied smirk.

“Let’s not keep him waiting any longer,” Laurent said. He strode past Auguste but his brother caught his arm before he could open the door.

“Behave,” was all that Auguste could manage.

“Auguste,” Laurent said with a smug look, “I don’t know why you would expect anything different.”

With that, Laurent left the room and gestured to lead Damen down the hall. Damen kept his eyes fixated on the young Veretian Prince at his side, and though he would never admit it, the young prince shot him looks right back.

Auguste followed them both, and prepared himself for what would be a very long night.


End file.
